


Butterfly’s Repose

by orphan_account



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), mcyt, tommyinnit - Fandom, wilbursoot - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28212240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tommy was the least normal kid you could have. He was 16, exiled, living with his oldest brother, hiding from a masked man, and lost his best friend. You could only imagine how much worse it would be when he wakes up to find out he’s related to mooblooms.-Updates one to three times a week.-If any of the content creators state they’re uncomfortable with these fictions, I will immediately remove them.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	1. “You don’t have to speak.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t write for the life of me so I apologize in advance.
> 
> Prologue: “You Don’t Have to Speak”

The sun warmed the frosted windows. The cottage sat on top of a hill of snow and the powder dusted the edges; as well as reaching and stuffing every crease and crevice. Windows creaked and support beams groaned to the dawn of a new day. Below the cottage lay a small stone room with nothing but a red sleeping bag, a chest, a ladder, and a tall blonde child. 

He moved and shoved his head under his pillow in an attempt to block out any background noise and try to shy away from another morning. 

Distant neighs were apparent and signaled a hungry animal in need for feed. The clicking and clacking of shoes were upstairs, accompanied by the low grunts of a pink haired man.

Upstairs, a tall lanky man stood with a crown atop his head and a trident stitched to his back. Opening a chest, the figure grabbed a couple various potions before wandering to the furnace. The heat nipped at his hands as he pulled out some baked potatoes and laid them out on a plate. 

He opened the trapdoor and slid down the ladder, landing in the blonde boy’s small chamber. Setting the steaming plate on the floor and nudging it toward the kid’s face, he also crouched to double check he was still alive. The blonde simply grumbled from underneath his pillow and put up his hand, waving off the pink haired man.

He huffed before standing and turning on his heels, climbed back up the ladder. 

Squinting his eyes so that they could adjust properly to the sun reflecting off the snow, an old man and a friendly looking ghost stood not too far off, knee deep in snow. The man stood, holding tight to the horse’s reign on the ground and the ghost sat atop the horse, coaxing it and stroking it’s neck. 

As the door clicked shut, the transparent man looked up eagerly before sliding off the horse and waving. He simply shook his head before trudging toward his brother Wilbur.

The old man held out his arms in hopes for a embrace, and instead received a strange look from his eldest son.

Before a word was uttered, the three were on their way and hurried toward what would be the next errand to run, while they once again left the youngest problem child to hold his own.


	2. “Don’t need to talk to me.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The T in Tommy might as well mean tired.

Children are not vulnerable to the cruel realities of the world. They are merely woven into the stitches and intricate fabrications of their own imaginations and fascinations. What seems like a simple wooden box to one could be a whole world to another. Or, a large open dresser could be a mountain begging to be climbed and conquered. 

The sun isn’t just a star, but a light opening up the eyes and sending cascading sparkles of shine over the glistening snow. A wakening beak and call for the occupants to wake and begin seeing.

Children are unique, in the way their brains cannot process this harsh reality. It simply accepts things as fact.

But, all good things come to an end.

Simply, what this child will see today will be nothing of his imagination or thoughts. Nothing will have prepared him for the strange reality ahead of him, and his inevitable rise and fall.

He groaned as he rose from the cold sleeping back. Laying an arm underneath him, he pushed himself up and sat on his knees, eyes closed, and sniffed the air that had a wave of food. Rubbing his eyes he squinted over at the plate covered in baked potatoes, followed by a small yellow sticky note. Scribbled on it were the words, 

‘Busy w/ Phil. Be back in 1-3 days.’

Arms limp at his sides, he rolled his head back and let out the weakest whine, “What the fuuck.”

Maneuvering his legs, he sat criss-cross with the plate in his lap, and munched away. He’d need food for the busy day ahead.

It wasn’t often that Technoblade would abandon him. Typically, the older brother would take him with him. But, when he put some thought into it, which he doesn’t do often, it makes sense. For the past couple weeks the worst portions of winter had hit and left some of their supplies in shambles. The front deck still needed to be cleared of snow and the horse's pen was torn from the worst of blizzards. 

Even worse, Tommy had horrible headaches for the past couple days. They’d last for hours at a time, and only come and go at intervals. When he finally went to ask Phil about it, he simply laughed it off and said that the boy was just dehydrated or must’ve hit his head. Cringing at the remembrance, he wobbled up onto his feet and wrapped himself in a red cape. Barefoot, he walked across the stone floor and reached for the ladder.

He yanked his hand back and shivered at the cold touch of the bar.

Once upstairs, he lit the furnace for heat and stood at the jukebox. Sliding the disc in, the song “Chirp” echoed throughout the house. As the notes entered and exited his ears, he grabbed hold of both sides of the jukebox and knelt over, letting his hair lay over his eyes. 

And for the first time in a long time, tears ran down his face. Rushing to wipe them away with his sleeves, he couldn’t keep up, and instead choked back sobs, and began sniffing. His dirty sleeves left dirt stains across his cheeks that were only washed away by the fountain of tears that followed. Like washing away the pain and sorrow he’d gone through. Memories began fronting his mind, varying from the control room, where his ally became his enemy, and the festival with the near death of his best friend and scars that pierced deeper than swords ever would. 

The astronaut woman meant something else within him now, and the way the space was vast and empty. Soundless, and alone.

Oh how he wished his head was soundless and thoughtless. If he was the woman astronaut instead, simply floating in space, surrounded by stars and planets with no thoughts other than the present.

Sniffles filled the room, and the sounds of cracking charcoal lit. The windows continued to crack against the frost and the support beams seemed to groan louder than ever. 

“I- I don’t know.” He choked.

Tommy hated being alone. It gave him time to think. It allowed painful thoughts to resurface, and small dismal details would scrape his stomach and leave raw nausea in its wake. A pain constantly stabbed between his ribs, leaving a feeling like a pin needle cushion.

In an attempt to repeat his statement, the words became unintelligible and spit began dripping from his mouth as another sob threatened to break through, as through the water pressure within a valve had to burst. His whole body shook and he used the back of his sleeves to rub away the snot, irritating his nose and leaving it sore and red.

No matter what words he’d utter, no one would hear. His wrists and hands felt like needles and his eyes felt as though they were on fire.

At last, the boy let out a wail before letting himself drop to the wooden floor, and allowing the notes and rhythms of the song to coax him out of this reality.

His hands gripped his shoulders, digging his nails in enough to draw blood, and as the record stopped spinning, all that could be heard was the small whimpers of a tired child.

No sixteen year old should be sent to war, or have so many responsibilities on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story was not meant to go this way oh my god. I promise next chapter we will get moobloom content jsjahsksnsk


	3. Christmas Special!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade let out his signature grunt, allowing his younger brother to run a comb through his hair.
> 
> “I want your crown.”
> 
> “Absolutely not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cries* you’ll have to wait one more day for moobloom content, I swear I’ve rewritten the chapter like three times and can’t get it right.
> 
> So have some softie techno and hair stylist Tommy for a minute

Tommy sat on the wooden floor of Techno’s cottage and the four of them had all gathered in a circle. The furnace nearby radiated heat and they all wore patterned blankets that were soft and had threads coming undone. Meanwhile, the boy simply had Techno’s old red cape wrapped around himself and sat with wide eyes, peering over at the small pile of presents and gifts wrapped.

Philza sat by Tommy and gave him a side glance. 

“You seem awfully excited Tommy.” he chuckled.

The boy immediately turned and slightly bounced in his turn. Floorboards creaked from underneath his weight and groaned.

“Of course I am dude. It’s Christmas!”

As Tommy reached for his present he investigated the wrapping. Wrapped in silver tissue and a tag that simply read, “Subscribe to Technoblade, To: Tommy.”

Philza took off his hat and laid it in his lap, scratching the hair on his head before looking at Techno, who simply returned the gaze with a small grunt and looked back toward his brother.

The snow left crystals along the edges of the house and the gentle breeze from outside entered through small crevices and traveled through the loose window panes, causing the dancing flames in the furnace to flicker, threatening to die out.

Eagerly tearing the tissues apart, he came across something that glistened underneath his touch and left firecrackers in his stomach.

——

“Are ya’ ever gonna get rid of that crown?”

“No Tommy.”

“Can I have it?”

“No.”

“Aw c’mon!”

The two sat atop the deck on Tommy’s old house in the woods. Techno’s legs dangled over the edge while Tommy sat behind him, brushing his long hair out with a comb. Wilbur always mentioned how he liked Techno’s long brown hair, so naturally he let it grow out and this allowed opportunities for his youngest brother to have a chance at grooming hair. Since the rest of them kept their hair relatively short, no one really had a chance at experimenting. It was just more convenient. It wasn’t until Wilbur and Philza suggested dying the eldest hair pink that Tommy became interested in hair, and would find himself picking and playing with his brother’s hair at any chance he got. 

The blonde got remarkably good at braiding, and since then would braid the boy’s hair any moment he got. (Which typically wasn’t often as he was always out on his own little adventures with his best friend Tubbo, or the pink haired man was out doing his own thing.)

“I think it’s cool.”

“I know Tommy.”

“I want it.”

“I know Tommy.”

“Is that a yes?”

“No.”

Stroking his small hands through the pink strands, he began continuing ranting on whatever first came to mind, only accompanied by Techno’s grunts and noises he tended to make. Tangling his fingers in the strands and moving surprisingly gracefully, the locks began turning into a tight braid, and trailed down his back until an extra strand of hair was used as a makeshift hair tie.

By the time the two had finished joking around and overall just hanging out, the sun had begun to set behind the canopy of trees and left blazing streaks across the sky, creating soft rolling clouds and giving a real golden glow to the trees and grass.

In the distance, a cow trudged through the grass, a calf following not too far behind, tumbling every couple steps, only for the larger cow to stop and wait for it to stand and trot back.

———

“Your crown!”

Philza tilted his head curiously and left a side glance toward Techno, who simply shrugged and the rest watched.

Holding the golden crown in his hands, it was surprisingly heavy, and the jewels glistened and begged to be placed somewhere to shine. Scratches and rust stains were apparent on some parts, and small dents and chips were scattered along the whole antique, showing off the wear and hardships the man had gone through.

Tommy simply cursed under his breath, completely unaware and at a total loss for words.

Leaning on his elbows, the pink hair draped over his shoulders like silk and barely touched the wood. That morning, he had left his hair alone since it was inevitable that the boy would want something to do with it later. 

“I figured you’d want a piece of me with you, so that we could always be together, regardless of whether I disappear or not.”

“Disappear?”

He simply waved his hand, “That isn’t a problem right now. Right now, just focus on the present. I know you probably think it’s cringey-“

Techno let out a surprise grunt as Tommy jumped into his arms, giving a hug. His arms were placed awkwardly to the side as the kid embraced him, holding onto him tightly and digging his head into his shoulder. Letting a sigh go, he reluctantly returned the embrace all while leaning into the hug. The cape draped over the two of them, and Philza and Ghostbur watched in content as the two finally got a moment to themselves.

You could practically hear the smile in his words as he muttered a “thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! Have a safe and good December 25th!


	4. “Baby, I already know.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Tommy decides to venture off back to the small lake near the village, and he finally gains the confidence looks over to gaze at his reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s here.

Time will never heal all the wounds, just as glue will never fill all the cracks. There will always be eventual pressure that lets a leak through.

After his cry, it left him exhausted and decided to spend some time in the village near his old exile instead. It gave him an opening to pet some cats and hope for a good trading opportunity.

The sun told him it was about mid day, meaning he spent the first half asleep, in pain, and crying.

Not the best way to start the day.

The blonde yawned as he walked down the snowy pasture, making his way to the west, and nearing the old area of his exile. A land blown to pieces by an angry faceless man, all because of the overwhelming fear of being overpowered by a boy who is incapable of listening and sticks to his mindset. Although this could be considered a good skill or characteristic, it’s what has gotten him into the issues and predicaments he’s now in.

His boots and pant legs were soaked from the crunchy snow, but he at last reached an area just outside the nearby village with a small lake, one that he had originally visited quite often, but very often neglected to just take in the view for once and appreciate the small things. Such as the croaking of the frogs, or the gentle breeze that came in from the ocean. The villagers' noises could be heard from quite a long distance, such as the laughing of the children, or the banging of steel against metal. The sun’s rays shone through the tree leaves and left small patterns across the forest floor, and even projected small rainbows onto the water.

Groaning from the pain of another oncoming headache, it all stopped suddenly. Not just the pain, but the world. The breeze stopped blowing, the frogs stopped croaking, not a single noise from a cow or mouse was heard. It was like the world froze in that instant. 

He had just laid on his head, gently poking the hard object on his head. Slowly getting on knees and looking into the water, he peered over and stared. His heart felt like a stalled car engine. Sat atop his head were two grey stubby horns, and his ears had grown longer and pointier, as well as furrier. The two horns were small and were nestled on both sides of his head. Meanwhile, his ears were longer and pointer than before, accompanied by slow growing fur that was mainly white, however also carried a couple yellow spots.

“Holy shit.” he breathed.

Shakily bringing his hands to his head, he felt the texture and the smoothness of both horns, along with poking the small points on the end. Taking in his new appearance was shocking, especially since he’d been so focused on crying before.

It wasn’t often he’d see his appearance. Considering the fact that mirrors weren’t too relevant. It wasn’t until he reached Techno that the pink haired man began pestering him on about not smelling and looking a little presentable. Afterwards, Philza would visit periodically, and he would help groom the blonde’s hair or force him to clean his clothes. Other than that however, he never bothered to look at his reflection. It was scary when he saw himself with the deep eye bags beforehand, and the only other time he saw himself was after Techno fixed him up. 

He preferred not to see afterward, as it was always a surprise that wasn’t in a good way. The feeling of how well he looked from after he had a bath was nice as well, and would rather pretend he still looked somewhat similar.

With new ideas and aspirations, it was hard considering what could be limited now. In those moments, adrenaline surged. Tommy wasn’t a man who was typically at a loss for words, but this was one of those times. The feeling that lingered was pins and needle pokes in his wrists, and a feather like feeling in his stomach. 

Nothing he could muster would describe the amazement.

Immediately he stood and looked around the rest of his body, investigating thoroughly and excitedly. Prodding and checking every square inch, and immediately wincing when he accidentally yanks something that was sitting at the base of his back. Holding the limp looking thing in his hand, he gazed at the white and yellow spotted fuzzy looking rope, along with a fluffy tip. Trailing it in his hands, it was smooth and clean. A tail.

Peering over into the water again, he gave off a small look, along with a full 360 to get a feel of the new appearance.

“Hey Tubbo! You won’t believe-“

He gazed into nothing but the vast expanse of the plains, and the small brown cow that happened to look up in his direction.

“What are you looking at bitch?”

***

“I just think you’re a bit hard on him Technoblade.” Yawned Philza.

“Bruh.”

The three surrounded a small campfire, and the horse stood nearby, munching on the grass. The tree’s surrounded them and threatened to engulf them in complete darkness if it wasn’t for the fire. A gentle breeze blew the old man’s hair and carried his chuckle off into the distance. Ghostbur placed his cold hands on Techno’s shoulders, causing shivers down his spine.

“I’m just saying, he is a kid after all. Not everyone went through the same thing you did.”

Techno adjusted his position, and leaned his head on one shoulder. 

“We were all raised together.”

Philza put up his hand. “To be fair, you were never around.”

“Heh? don’t hold grudges Phil. It was a long time ago.”

Ghostbur retracted his hands and knelt down in front of the fire. It’s gentle licks of flame reached for him slightly, and caused a unique reflection of light in his eyes. Almost as though a calling, or a yearning to reach something that wasn’t there.

Phil laid on his back and looked up toward the stars, “Whatever you say.”

“I’d never betray my family. Everything I do is for you.”

Ghostbur leaned in toward Techno, gazing him up and down before shrugging, “That was awfully cheesy, even for a communist pig.”

All that concluded the conversation was a grunt and the crunching of leaves as they all laid to rest. The fire spit a last couple embers into the night before going to sleep itself. The tree's leaves swayed with its branches as the small creatures of the night laid to rest, and the moonless night left no mercy for the three. The world was pitch black, and the night had gone to bed.

Or at least, you would think it had.

Instead, Ghostbur wandered down deeper into the forest, eager to find more resources to create more blue. The night never slept, and neither did he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I have a duty to finally put in hashtags for the story, but that’s a lot work and i feel very unmotivated


End file.
